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Saturday, May 1, 2010

please, enough of the same question...

lately i can't make a stop for gas or a donut without some dweeb shouting out "what year is that". really?! regardless of weather i'm on the phone, minding my own business, engaged in another conversation or whatever; some ass-hat needs to butt-in and ask that same stupid question. and usually that is just their stupid segue for more thoughtless-based inquiry.
such gems include;
"did you ride that here" R: "no, it fallowed me here"
"does it run" R: "no, i pushed it from home"
"did it come like that" R: "if it had i wouldn't have bought it"
"did you know its leaking" R: "thats the undercoat re-vitalizing"
"it looks like an old knuckle, is it" R: "sure is, one of the few to come with sportster castings"
now i realize that folks are curious about my rusty glob of grease and would like to know a little bit more about it, fine, cool, i love shooting the shit about bikes. i love bragging about mine! but what the fuck ever happened to the phrase: excuse me. i'm not looking for much, just a polite attention getter with the emphasis on polite. i often ask people all kinds of things; could you give me some directions, what kind of bike is that, are those boobs real, is that your sister, blah, blah, blah. regardless of my line of questioning, i try to be respectful unless i am purposefully being a dick. and then once the retardation is set in motion, oh then it picks up speed. when i say that it is in fact a '78 ironhead, please, tell me why they argue? "oh, one of them shovels" is the usual reply. to which i retort "no, not a shovelhead, an ironhead. kinda like a shovel, sorta, maybe, in the dark, but its an ironhead sportster". to which i sometimes get "my (insert their friend, grandma, dude-i-knew-in-college) had a sportster and it didnt look anything like that". okay, fine.
and lately, i'll admit, i've been being a turd...
"what year is that"?
"its a '42 indian".
"i thought so, needs some paint work".
"yeah, workin on it"
if you knew, why did you ask? if i own it, why dont you think i know what it is? and what the fuck would make me, a perfect stranger, want to respond to "hay, what year is that" shouted above whatever thoughts may be going through my head?

some people are gonna tell me to stop being so sensitive and to them, i am trying. i just dont like being yelled at by dweebs that butt-in and that i don't know. thanks for reading.